Chapter 2
Three years ago—
The mid-slope of Aewol Mountain in Banyul County, Gyeongnam City, was unusually crowded with people. It was because of a Hoengsumaki ritual prepared for an important nobleman—an exorcist ceremony meant to drive away misfortune and calamity for the year ahead. A type of ritual to ward off bad luck.
Fruits, rice cakes, and traditional sweets were stacked layer upon layer on the wide ritual table. The shamans inspected the table and the straw effigies before the ritual, while the musicians checked their instruments—flutes, drums, and more. Since it was quite a large gut (shamanic ritual), simply preparing the setup took half a day.
“Is he a presidential candidate or already the president?”
A short distance from the ritual site stood a young man and woman: a sharp-eyed woman with long straight hair, and a man with bleached bangs. They were Yoo-ha, a domu (official shaman) of the national exorcism agency Seongsucheong, and her spirit-younger-brother Dojun.
“This is why you don’t deal with the bastards from Yeouido.”
The story went back a week earlier. It was February, when the chill was fading and spring was taking its first step forward. With the first full moon festival approaching, private shrines were overflowing with requests.
— “He wants a private Hoengsumaki ritual?”
A week before the first full moon, an unofficial order came down from the upper ranks of Seongsucheong: perform a Hoengsumaki ritual for Jang Gyeong-jun, the ruling party’s next presidential candidate.
— “It’s not even a state event. Why would I do a private exorcism?”
It was blatant abuse of authority and power. Worse yet, he demanded that someone trained directly under the national shamanic court must officiate the ritual.
— “They said you have to. The candidate asked personally.”
— “Then send someone else. I’m already drowning from the murder-spirit case. I swear I’ll report this to the Labor Ministry.”
Already overworked, Yoo-ha’s stance was obvious: absolutely not.
But…
Before power, no one could win.
Jjiiing—! Jjiiing—!
The clang of gongs, drums, flutes, and cymbals filled the ritual grounds. The presidential candidate, wearing his golden badge, stood tense with his aide.
Unlike his domineering attitude when pushing the order through, he seemed uninterested in the ritual itself. His nervous gaze was fixed solely on the hemp bundle.
Inside the hemp cloth beneath the colorful altar lay the most important object of the ritual—a straw scarecrow meant to absorb misfortune. Along with it were the client’s underwear, fingernails, hair, and a talisman called Baeksalbu, used to dispel lethal bad luck.
Everything was wrapped together tightly within the hemp cloth.
“Oh-hoii! The misfortune of the first month is blocked by the Jaeseok ritual of the previous year, and the misfortune of the second month is blocked by greeting the new moon—”
Dressed in a pristine white shamanic robe and tall hat, Yoo-ha chanted the invocation, swaying her body in rhythm with the music, dancing and circling around the ritual ground with divine enthusiasm.
“Misfortune, disaster, calamity—be scattered into the empty sky, ten-thousand ri away, and—”
Just as the ritual reached its peak, a violent shiver tore through her. A terrible foreboding rushed toward the ritual grounds—something profoundly foreign and wrong.
“You wicked thing!”
A thunderous shout burst from her lips. It was the wrath of the celestial general—the highest divine spirit she served.
[ψυχήῆς μεταλλάσσω δεῦρο οἰκουμένη]
A language she couldn’t understand burrowed into her ears. Hearing the whisper of something evil, Yoo-ha snapped her head back sharply.
“Kh—hck…!”
Her long slender neck twisted unnaturally, as though a rope had wrapped around it and yanked from behind.
She gasped as her airway closed. Her feet lifted from the ground and her body floated into the air.
“K-kehk…! Keuk—!”
Clutching her throat, she thrashed violently. Panic erupted among the onlookers.
But Dojun quickly regained composure and took command. The shamans chanted dispelling verses, and the musicians resumed the ritual music.
Yet nothing improved. Yoo-ha’s eyes rolled halfway back as she lost consciousness.
— …Come.
A voice brushed her ear—maybe the last thing she heard. She couldn’t even grasp the words fully.
“Ugh—!”
Her body went limp, and everything went black.
***
Ugh… my head…
Half-conscious, Yoo-ha groaned. Her skull felt like someone was beating it with a washing bat. Presidential candidate. Hoengsumaki. Sudden-death curse. Her thoughts flickered and cut off.
“Carry the young lady to her chamber—quickly!”
A strange voice. Her body lifted into the air. Forcing her heavy eyelids open, she saw tall spires and red-and-blue flames through a blurry haze.
…Scorching Hell?
One of the Eight Hells where murderers were sent—a land of flame. Impossible… Her vision swam.
A strong scent of herbs and medicine drifted to her nose—so thick it stung. Her foggy senses cleared little by little.
Frowning, Yoo-ha twitched her fingers. She tried to lift a hand to cover her nose, but she had no strength.
“…There’s a wound on her abdomen. It looks like she attempted suicide.”
Voices reached her dimly.
“…All this, over a useless little girl?”
A woman in a blue dress finally spoke. Her name was Sella Vellore, the second wife of the Duke of Vallus.
“I have no excuses,” the head butler said, bowing deeply.
“If things had gone wrong and this girl had died—!”
Sella’s fury erupted. The empire permitted polygamy, and power struggles among in-laws were intense.
Today—one such political balance had nearly shattered.
“All Vallus blood must undergo the Fire Rite. Only that! Our house has only one iron rule!”
It was the family ritual to determine whether a child inherited the Vallus ability to wield fire. No exceptions existed—not even for distant or illegitimate branches.
But today, the rule had been broken. A young Vallus child had nearly died before taking the rite.
And all because Sella had sent the girl to the Temple of Ash in the Varga Desert. How ironic. In a place where a single careless step could shift political tides.
“…You know the lord’s reaction will be unpredictable. I will hold the Temple of Ash fully accountable.”
She forced down her rage, then turned to Yoo-ha lying on the bed.
Shh—
Sella stepped forward. Her dress, embroidered with silver thread, trailed behind her.
“Kalisia.”
She gently cupped the sweating girl’s cheek. Her pale skin and silver-violet hair reminded her of another—Kalisia’s mother, once Sella’s maid.
Sella’s eyes dulled. Old grudges resurfaced.
A maid, stealing her husband’s affection and trampling her pride—an unforgivable, lowborn wench.
Sella bit her lip.
“…My dear, Sella Vellore has never spared anything that stood in my way. No matter who it is.”
“……”
“There is an old saying: all Vallus are born of fire and return to fire. So, Kalisia—if you want to end that worm-like life of yours, die within the flames.”
Whispering into Yoo-ha’s ear, she murmured:
“Don’t you dare stand in my way.”
“U-ugh…”
Yoo-ha groaned, tossing weakly. Her ears buzzed, her stomach churned.
“Mmh…”
She forced her heavy eyelids open. Golden hair like sunlight, sapphire-blue eyes—beauty straight out of a European classical painting stared down at her.
“An angel?”
Yoo-ha mumbled half-consciously. She must have died after all—this must be heaven.
The angel looked mean for a heavenly being, but still. Hallelujah, amen—
“…?”
But why was she in heaven and not the Pure Land, or paradise? She was a Buddhist, after all.
“Hah! I’ve heard people become idiots when they die and come back. That must be the case.”
Sella recoiled with disgust.
“Whatever happens, make sure she keeps breathing. I don’t care if she ends up a cripple or a halfwit.”
With a cold expression, she left the room.
***
When Yoo-ha awoke again, her eyelids trembled. Her breathing was shallow and quick. Whether because of medicine or sleep, her limbs felt like wet cotton.
“U-ugh…”
She slowly raised a hand and pressed her temple. Trying to clear her head, she forced her eyes open and shut repeatedly. The aftereffects of the sudden-death curse hadn’t faded.
Smack! Smack!
She slapped her own cheeks and looked around. A chandelier blooming like a flower, ornate wallpaper, elegant antique furniture—all filled her vision.
She sat up, groaning unintentionally as a stabbing pain ripped through her abdomen. Clutching her stomach, she bent forward. Dark red blood seeped through the thin silk dress.
“…Ugh.”
Gritting her teeth, she lifted her head. Through her wavering vision, she glimpsed a girl she didn’t know.
Skin white as snow, red eyes, silver-violet hair—so mesmerizing it seemed unreal.
“Who… is that?”
Yoo-ha stared hard. The red-eyed girl stared back just as intensely. Their gazes locked for a long moment.
“…!”
Yoo-ha noticed something wrong. Limping, she stepped forward.
“…What the—”
A clean mirror with a gold border reflected her.
A girl with beautiful silver-violet hair opened her mouth.
“Ah—!”
Before she could process it, her vision blackened again—an agony like someone gouging out her eyes.
About a minute passed.
[Enter]
A single word floated before her eyes—like a divine vision, a scene painted by the gods.
